Choppy
by RedRose207
Summary: Write an essay on anything with any length. With so many possibilities, what should he write about? Rated T for cursing.


_**Choppy**_

Assignment: Write an essay on anything. It can be as ridiculous, serious, long, or short as you want it.

It's an easy assignment. _Too _easy. No. It couldn't be. What teacher gives homework this easy?

Mr. Ferguson does. Of course the most peppy, laid-back teacher would. He's always doing stuff like this. But what do you expect from the easiest English course ever imagined?

So what to write about? So many topics so little time. Let's see…

Hobbies (Obvious)

Life Experiences (Too many to count)

Friends (Ridiculously obvious)

Random Crap (Possibly)

Family (…)

Family? Interesting topic. Interesting, but…no.

Not family. Not _them_.

But maybe…

Them? They're gone. They left.

But I told them to.

They're better than any other alternative.

Laughter. Music.

_Much better_.

Fine. Them. Where to begin?

3:00 AM.

Shit. Got to write.

Okay. Start.

_Family is important because–_

Stupid. Clichéd. Obvious. Backspace.

_My parents are_

Neglectful?

Self-Absorbed?

Idiots?

Too cruel. Too true. Be nicer. Backspace.

_My parents, like any others, try as hard as they can to make me happy. They're there for me and support me in times of need._

Where am I going with this? _Thud!_

_T6boufdeor_

Backspace.

_My dad always hated the Dinklebergs. Can't blame him. Mr. Dinkleberg was always gloating about his accomplishments. His nice car, his nice house, his nice pool, you name it. Mr. Dinkleberg was a nice guy, but my dad still hated him. He hated him for his stuff. The stuff he could afford because he didn't have kids._

Because he didn't have kids.

Anger. Resentment. Wait! Remember that day.

_But my dad thought I was better than anything the Dinklebergs had. He was still happy when they moved, though. After a few years, a new family moved in. They were—_

Music turned up.

Door slammed.

_They were eccentric to say the least. They rode up in a minivan. There were four of them: A woman, a man, a child, and a dog. The woman looked motherly, strong, and independent. The man looked a bit dimwitted, but lovable. The child and dog were like any boy and his dog. They were inseparable. My mom made me greet them the day after they moved in. The family introduced themselves. I saw them before. We spent a lot of time together. They didn't recognize me._

Light turned on. Shadows moving. What are they doing?

_They still don't. I babysit their son. I refuse any payment. Like I said, I know this family. We're close._

Backspace.

_We were close. They're great people. I want to help out. I don't want payment. The woman comes home late. Long after her son has fallen asleep. She looks sad when she arrives. She misses him during the week. The man comes home early in the morning. Before his son goes to school. He's gone for days and then returns. He misses his son, too. The dog is excitable. He barks a lot and is always jumping up and down. He licks my face whenever I walk through the door. I don't know if he remembers me or is accustomed to me. The son is seven. I pick him up from school and drop him off. He can take the bus. I don't want him to. There's a kid on the bus. He likes to joke. He likes to make the son cry._

Music turned off. Footsteps. Door closing.

4:16 AM.

Sigh of relief.

_The son could go to daycare during the week. His parents don't let him. I don't let him. It's too bright, too happy, and too funtastic. That's why I babysit him. Even though they don't remember (or that's what it seems like), I do. I remember them helping me to stop an embarrassing e-mail and helping my dad with his job. I remember the birth of their son. I remember his first words. I remember when I told them to leave. They didn't have to, but it was for the best. I didn't need them, but I wanted them. _

_It hurt a lot when they left. I thought I would be content. I thought I could accept it, but I couldn't._

4:50 AM.

Sappy. Stupid.

Tired. Don't care. Sleep.

7:59 AM.

Ring!

Fuck!

Paper?

Backpack?

Hat?

Laptop?

Bus? Fat chance.

Parents? Gone.

Poof!

Car horn.

Really? Thank God!

1:37 PM. Friday.

Content: A

Lovely.

Grammar: C

Choppy.

Final Grade: B-

Comments: Did they remember?


End file.
